Like a Bad Dream
by The Harry Turtle
Summary: Set after Christmas, 1996 & before the Dept of Mysteries fight in OotP/Book 5, centers around Sirius's growing depression, his friendship/relationships with Lupin & Harry, and explores a what-if plot bunny based on a dream I had of him attempting suicide (so obvious trigger warning there)-yes, I know that's an odd thing to dream. Lots of lovely angst.
1. Chapter 1

Hello fellow Potter fans. This story came to me in dream form (I was Harry) and I just can't get it out of my head (not that I want to). It's a bit sad, in a bittersweet way, since it stars Sirius and Lupin. Trigger warning for a suicide attempt.

_**Like a Bad Dream**_

_Setting: Number 12 Grimmauld Place, 1996_

Part 1:

Harry Potter had been nursing a _bad feeling_ all day. He wasn't one to put much stock in such things, and figured in any case that it was perfectly natural to have such low-level uneasy feelings just about all the time these days, what with Voldemort being back and all. It was becoming more and more difficult to brush off as just a baseline state as the day wore on, however.

As he followed Remus Lupin down Grimmauld Place, approaching the blank space between 11 & 13, it became acutely worse. He had been looking forward to getting back to Headquarters—well, as much as one could look forward to being in that drab, depressing place—pretty much since they left on their errand, since they had to leave Sirius behind, alone. Wanted (wrongly or otherwise) "criminals" not being welcome in most shops these days, and Snuffles's cover suspected blown at King's Cross and all.

Sirius had been alarmingly down lately, almost depressed, if wizards could get such mundane muggle maladies like depression. Harry knew it had to do with being cooped up in the most depressing house imaginable with the most depressing memories—and it couldn't help being alone most of the time either.

Harry lengthened his stride as this feeling got worse and worse, and he noticed Lupin quickening his pace to remain a step ahead of him. Harry didn't like the look on Lupin's face…almost like he was getting a _bad feeling_ too. As Sirius's best living friend, it seemed unlikely that he hadn't noticed Sirius's progressively darkening mood.

Lupin rushed through the door as soon as it appeared and just as quickly as he could get it unlocked. The second they crossed the threshold they knew that something really _was_ wrong.

It was too quiet, and much, much too clean. Sirius wasn't much of a cleaner. Despite living in the most perilously dirty house any of them had ever been in, he was content to let the job of tidier remain firmly in Molly Weasley's lap. But glancing around first the foyer, and then as they rushed forward seeing the pristine state of the kitchen, it just felt so, final. Like Sirius was trying to leave everything in order for them. Like, as if, as if to say "ok, now that's done, I can leave." Neither of them could explain to themselves why the sight of those clear & shining countertops left this dark impression on them, and they had difficulty putting it in words when asked later, but they knew, they _knew_ that something was very wrong.

It hit Harry like a punch to the gut, like walking straight into a wall, that his bad feeling had been justified, that somehow he had known that something really was wrong, and had just brushed it aside, pushed it down until he had half-convinced himself it was nothing. Now he felt, somehow, that he would regret that forever. But that was ridiculous… Trying not to panic, Harry called out for Sirius, almost tentatively.

"Sirius?"

As if it were no big deal. As if he expected Sirius to answer from a distant room.

He didn't.

Harry had a terrible, heavy, sick, sinking sensation that they had gotten home too late.

"Sirius?!" Lupin too, was trying not to panic, trying not to give in to that terrible feeling. Terrified of the silence, of the finality of how clean it was, and of Harry's face, telling him that he wasn't imagining this, that something was very wrong. He called out again, rushing forward to check the next room, Harry lurching ahead of him in his sick fear.

"Sirius!?"

"Sirius!"

And then, as they crossed into the dining room they found him, suspended from a bracket in the celling.

"SIRIUS!"

"Sirius! Nooo!"

His eyes were open but unseeing, half-lidded, mouth agape, limbs hanging limply, swaying gently with a rope around his neck, clearly dead.

Too late. They were too late.

Harry screamed, screamed from the bottom of that pit his stomach had sunk into. Screamed so forcefully that somehow the sound didn't all quite make it past the constriction in his chest and the lump in his throat and only partially came out, all hoarse and shrill sounding. He stared at his godfather's slack face and his own face twisted into a sob as he noticed tears drying on Sirius's cheeks.

Barely able to pause for air, Harry screamed again, long, and this one, more audible. How could this be? How could Sirius have done this? Left him alone, again? Parentless, again? Was everyone who loved him destined to die? …_God, how could he—? Don't let him be dead, please don't let him be dead._

As if galvanized by Harry's screams, Lupin wasted no time, gritting his teeth against his own scream, against his own pleas…_oh God, his best friend_…whipping out his wand he cried:

"Relashio!" freeing Sirius's neck from the noose. As he began to plummet to the floor, Lupin caught him with a cushioning charm:

"Molliare!" It was amazing that he sounded as calm as he did. Barely a wobble in the word to reveal his despair…_his best friend, more of a brother_…Lupin reached for Sirius's limp body, needing to feel him, hoping for a pulse.

Of course there was none.

Now Harry was again able to move, able to think. If Lupin was acting with such haste to get Sirius free, he must think that there could still be a chance. He rushed to Sirius's side as Lupin did, reaching to touch his godfather, feeling the same compulsion as Lupin.

"He's warm, he's still warm!" Harry shouted desperately to Lupin, seeing the despair on Lupin's face as he searched fruitlessly for a pulse. Harry needed that urgency, that hope—which Lupin had displayed just moments ago—to come back.

Lupin only then noticed what should have been obvious. Sirius's neck was, despite being pulse-less, still warm. They had missed his death by moments. He might have heard them entering the door, calling for him only a few rooms away as he hung there, fading…maybe that's why there were tears on his face —_No… _that realization was just too terrible, pain constricted Lupin's chest at the thought _…We were too late… oh,_ _please Sirius, don't let it be too late…_ Lupin pointed his wand at Sirius's still chest and paused a moment, just one, to compose himself.

_We just got you back. Twelve dark, wasted years and now, and now…you only just got back…I just got you back…I can't, I can't lose you now…God, there's got to be something…_Wracking his brain Lupin desperately searched for a healing charm that might restart a wizard's heart. He didn't know if it would work, but he had to try.

"Rennervate!" Lupin choked.

The look on Lupin's face was painful to behold, but the desperate grief in his voice was worse. Harry didn't know if that spell would do any good, if there was anything even a trained healer could do for Sirius at this point, but he had to try.

"Rennervate!" Harry mimicked.

They continued like this, one after the other, pausing only for breath. As they continued to work on Sirius without success tears began to drip from Lupin's shaking, desperately working face, as he struggled to keep himself and his voice in control. As he watched Lupin's tears dripping down onto Sirius's chest Harry noticed for the first time that his own face and neck were wet, realizing then that he had been crying for some time now. _No, no we're not giving up._ Screwing up his own face against the pain of it and throwing all of his love and need for his godfather into the spell, he bellowed:

"RENNERVATE!" followed half a heartbeat later by Lupin's similarly emotionally charged cry "RENNERVATE!"

Sirius jerked.

He gasped, mouth and throat convulsing with the effort to get air past his damaged windpipe, pupils working to focus as he blinked repeatedly, heart pumping, chest rising and falling and alive, Sirius took a tortured breath.

Lupin rushed to heal his neck, not quite able to bring himself to look for awareness in those eyes yet—what if there wasn't any?—and so focused fixedly on the ugly bruise which encircled Sirius's neck, first working to mend anything that was broken:

"Brackium emendo!"

Then attempting a wound healing spell to repair all the tissue damage:

"Vulnera sanentur," and hearing the improvement in breathing as his crushed trachea began to expand—Sirius had sounded like he was trying to breathe through a wet straw—Lupin continued chanting the healing spell until Sirius spoke.

"Re—Remus…"

Lupin broke off, eyes snapping to Sirius's he dropped his wand to exchange it for Sirius's shoulder, unable to do anything but hold on tight as he looked Sirius full in the face, barely able to choke out a response as their gaze locked and he saw the awareness, the _person_ he was so afraid would be gone forever staring back at him.

"Sirius," voice cracking as one last sob slipped his control, "I'm here, we're here…we've got you."

A fresh tear rolled down Sirius's cheek as Remus gazed at him so intensely, squeezing his shoulder as if he might still slip away if Remus didn't hold on tight enough, at the little sob he couldn't quite keep out of his voice as he realized that Sirius was ok, and at his words…_I'm here…_ He should have gone to Remus weeks ago, he thought as the next tear fell, should have trusted that he would have his back…_we've got you…_of course he did.

Harry stared at his godfather through this interaction, just stared, convincing himself that this was real, that he was really alive… and then at Lupin's last words Harry dropped his own wand and with shaking hands grabbed Sirius's wrist, as if to check his pulse again, holding on for dear life, and only able to utter one word.

"Sirius… Sirius?" Sirius turned to him, gazing at his godson, this miracle of a child who looked just like his dead best friend and had all his best personality traits too. The boy who saved him from the dementor's kiss only hours after thinking that it had been him who had betrayed his parents and had been trying to kill him. One of the only things in this cold dark world that brought him joy, and, along with Remus, one of the two people he loved most in the world.

Sirius half sat up, supported by Lupin, reaching out for his godson.

"Harry, oh Harry, I'm so sorry." At hearing his godfather's voice, seeing his eyes lit again with fire and love and regret and _life_ Harry fell into his arms, trying to be gentle but needing to hold him. Sirius's eyes softened as he enfolded his godson in a hug, and then smiled as Lupin wrapped his arms in turn around the both of them and said gently:

"You idiot. Don't you know how much we love you? We just got you back…" Lupin breathed, still too upset, too full of wonder and too grateful to be truly mad.

"I am an idiot," Sirius barked mirthlessly, then sobered. "Something dark came over me and it just felt like you'd all be better off if I was gone."

"Never." Lupin stated firmly.

"Never." Harry agreed.

"I know I…Something happened when everything went dark…"

-**end of Part 1**-

I am supremely sorry if I did trigger anyone with Sirius's suicide. I did not mean to glorify death, and I know that I didn't exactly linger on any of the more unsavory details (like having him soil himself or anything)…but I tried to focus the story more on Harry & Lupin's pain than the physical details.

We all have Remus Lupins in our lives, willing to stay with us night and day if that's what it takes for us to stay with them. Reach out to them if you're feeling suicidal, ask for help. Don't wait until it's too late. If you can't get ahold of them, call or chat with the hotline to get you through it in the meantime:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

Call 1-800-273-8255

Available 24 hours everyday

Don't listen to the darkness telling you anyone would be better off without you—that's a lie. The world & your loved ones would be much much worse off without you. Get into therapy or something to help you learn strategies to deal with such negative thoughts and get through the dark times.

Hugs and love, and thanks for reading (reviews welcome)!

~ Caroline

Oh PS: there will be 2 more chapters (already written, just editing a bit), so look out for those.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello fellow Potter fans. This story came to me in dream form and I just can't get it out of my head (not that I want to). It's a bit sad, in a bittersweet way, since it stars Sirius, Lupin, and Harry. Trigger warning for a suicide attempt.

_**Like a Bad Dream**_

_Setting: Number 12 Grimmauld Place, 1996_

Part 2:

Sirius Black would never have pegged himself as the suicidal type.

He made it through 12 years in Azkaban, literally the worst place on Earth, fueled mostly by hate and a dog's simpler emotions. One would think being back at his mother's house, having access to all the people he cared about—or at least those of them who were still alive, and at least some of the time—would seem like a vacation, paradise, in comparison. Thing was, it was still a prison. He had never truly escaped.

He thought he would be happier without all the dementors around though—and really, he would swear that he had been for a couple years. Surely there were a few bright memories that shine through the fog—but for the most part lately he felt like there was always a dementor hovering over his shoulder, ready to suck any of life's joys away nearly immediately after they come to him.

Take Christmas for example. It really was a good holiday—he had to be fair. Looking at it rationally it was wonderful, beyond wonderful to have Harry and Remus and all the rest of the Order and their kids around. Hosting was fun, but the best thing was being surrounded by all that busy, loud, laughing mass of people who all cared about each other…and him.

But still, overshadowing it all, sucking away all that fun and joy and life like one of his old hooded pals was the knowledge that they were all going to leave, leaving him alone except for the occasional visit from Snivellus or Dung or some well-meaning but utterly condescending Order member or another.

He knew, he _knew_ this wasn't forever. The war wasn't going to go on forever. Either he was going to go down fighting gloriously to defend Harry and Dumbledore and the whole damn world or they were going to win. As soon as they won they would have proof that he was an innocent man and he would get a pardon. He could raise Harry like the godfather he deserved, for however many years were left after the war before he was a man. Well, he was already turning into a man, but still, 15 year-olds could use family support, which Harry was sorely lacking from those muggles and—if he was being honest—from his own godfather. The point was, within the next few years he would have freedom or he would be dead, and either would be worlds better than where he was now, if he could just get through it.

How weak did he have to be to not be able to get through it? Or just wait till Voldemort took care of it for him? What a drag on the people around him he must be… He knew he was, really—they tried to hide it, well except for Snivellus and Kreacher, not that their opinions mattered to him at all—but he cared immensely how it was affecting the rest of them. Especially Harry and Remus …

He tried to resist the dark, dragging sensation. Tried to reason with himself that Remus and Harry, in particular, loved him and would be devastated if he was dead. He knew they would grieve terribly, and be justified, since neither of them had any other family to speak of…but he just couldn't shake the assertion that even with that, they would be better off without him. He fought the feelings since the Christmas holidays ended, but with Remus and Harry's visit he let his guard down, so happy to be in their company again, that when they left for that errand and it hit him that soon they would both be leaving again for good—well, at least the rest of the school year, maybe longer—the feeling came roaring back, this time with little reserve left to fight it off.

He had been thinking about how he'd do it for some time. Not—not a plan exactly, he tried to tell himself, except what else you could call it he wasn't sure. Easy enough with magic to fly yourself up to the ceiling, tie a rope there, tie it here, drop your wand so you couldn't change your mind, and just let go.

So…that's what he did.

He regretted it almost instantly.

Dropping the wand had been stupid. An evil suggestion from the dark thoughts within the dense, dark fog. As the noose tightened and he twisted against it, trying to reach for the wand and accio it into his own hand—was that even possible?—that dark fog lifted for the first time since seeing Harry and the others off on the Hogwarts Express, leaving him clearheaded and full of fear, fear and sadness—not the ego-focused sadness that had come with the depression, no, sadness for those he was leaving behind, and fear that Harry was the one that was going to find him hanging there, dead, and that it was going to seriously mess him up.

How could it not?

So Sirius struggled, struggled to support his weight with his hands on the rope swinging above him instead of his neck, struggled to get out of the noose, struggled to get his wand…struggled to stay conscious for as long as it took to do any of those things.

But he couldn't do it…not any of it…and his limbs were getting heavier and heavier. His vision was darkening around the edges and his lungs were on fire but still he struggled, fruitlessly. No one could say Sirius Black went down without a fight.

Except they could, and they would.

How would they know he came to his senses in time if it turns out it _wasn't_ in time? What did it even matter if he did the deed in the first place? God, what an idiot. He should have told someone how he'd been feeling. Remus would have stayed by his side night and day, would have gotten him help.

Dammit…poor Remus. _I'm so sorry_.

His last thoughts as the world around him faded were of them, Remus and Harry. He could almost hear their voices, as if from very far away.

"_Sirius?"_

Almost…almost like…they were calling to him, calling _for_ him.

"_Sirius?!"_

And then he went cold, and he realized that they were. They had gotten home, and were calling for him. He couldn't feel much anymore except the pain in his lungs, and even that was fading as he faded, but he struggled to remain conscious, struggled one more time to get his hands up to the noose…he had to loosen it enough to call to them…let them know where he was…tell them he was sorry…

Tears welled up and spilled over as he realized with what was left of his fading mind that he couldn't, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't hold on for them…

"_Sirius!?"_

His numb, weighted hands fell to his sides and he settled further down into the noose as his lungs finally gave in to the inevitable and he ceased breathing, heart first frantically beating and limbs twitching in one final effort to free his body of whatever was choking it, and then settling into stillness and finally stuttering completely to a stop.

"_Sirius!"_

He could almost, almost see them now, as he died…they hadn't seen him yet but he could tell they were about to step forward, about to find his body—because it was only a body now, he realized numbly, as if from afar…literally from afar, as he drifted away from it…only a body, and he couldn't stay any longer.

"_SIRIUS!"_

"_Sirius! Nooo!"_

Their voices followed him into the heavy darkness which swallowed his whole world.

_Sirius came to himself, if you could call it that, slowly. The first thing he realized was that he could feel his body again somehow, although he had a feeling it wasn't really his body…he didn't really understand what it was, but it felt like he had his hands and arms and everything back…_

_The second thing he became aware of was the presence of two people he thought he would never see again._

"_James!" He cried, although he wasn't sure you could really call it a "sound" that he made, leaping forward to wrap his arms around his lost friend. _

"_Lily," he breathed, as she moved into the hug. "You're here, you're real…so…I'm dead."_

"_You shouldn't be," James tightened his hold convulsively, trying to fill Sirius with warmth and love. "You would have never been if Lucious Malfoy hadn't thought he recognized you at the train station and put a curse on you. He cursed you with dark magic, something like what the muggles call depression, to make you feel unloved, unwanted, in the way. Something to strip you of your reason and get you to do something stupid," James revealed._

"_And I did…I felt like they would be better off without me…constantly, pressing down on me was this sense that I should act on that thought. It was so hard to resist…"Sirius started._

"_It wasn't your fault." Lily insisted, pulling back to look him in the eye._

"_No, it wasn't." James stated gently, firmly, also pulling back a little, holding him by the shoulders now and staring him down, as if to will Sirius to understand and send him strength and resolve through eye-contact alone. "But you're not done down there yet. Harry and Remus need you, the Order needs you, the whole damn wizarding world needs you." _

_Sirius could only smile. Leave it to his best friend to wave away the darkness like it was nothing, to build him back up when he was at his lowest._

"_You'll have to get Remus to lift the curse off of you, but now that you know it's there he should be able to get rid of it," James continued._

_"But how…how can I go back? I tried, tried to get my wand, tried to release the noose, tried to call out, or at least hold out until they found me…and I couldn't—Harry and Remus, I'm so sorry—I shouldn't have put them through this. They've been through enough…" Sirius began._

"_You __**can**__ go back, because they haven't given up on you. Look," And just like that, James brought him back to that place by the ceiling, hovering above the scene as Remus cut his body down, caught him, and began attempts to resuscitate him. He heard as they discovered that he was still warm, saw as the hope warred with the despair in their faces. "You can still go back."_

_He wanted to, wanted more than anything to banish those looks from Harry and Remus's faces, to never see so much grief on them again. _

_He loved them so much._

"_They need you. Please, be the father I couldn't be for Harry, be the friend and brother I can't be for Remus." James wrapped his arms around Sirius again, drawing him first in a hug, and then placed his hands on either side of his heart, right where Remus and Harry were directing their spells._

"_You're my best man, the brother I chose, and you've still got work to do. Go back with our love, Sirius. We'll be waiting here for you all; take your time." And James shoved him back into his own body._

He awoke to Remus's voice, struggling for air and yet breathing easier with each intake and exhale as the healing charms took effect, marveling at the wonder of it.

"Re—Remus…"

Sirius was struck by the intensity of Remus's gaze as his eyes snapped to meet Sirius's, the firm grip of his hand on his shoulder, as he came to terms with the idea that Sirius really was alive.

"Sirius," Remus sobbed with what must have been relief, "I'm here, we're here…we've got you."

A fresh tear rolled down Sirius's cheek as Remus gazed at him so intensely, squeezing his shoulder as if he might still slip away if Remus didn't hold on tight enough, touched by the little sob Remus couldn't quite keep out of his voice as he realized that Sirius was ok, and at his words…_I'm here…_ He should have gone to Remus weeks ago, he thought as the next tear fell, should have trusted that he would have Sirius's back…_we've got you…_of course he did, he was Remus wasn't he?


	3. Chapter 3

Hello fellow Potter fans. This story came to me in dream form and I just can't get it out of my head (not that I want to). It's a bit sad, in a bittersweet way, since it stars Sirius, Lupin, and Harry. Trigger warning for a suicide attempt.

Here's the final chapter of my trilogy. Thanks for reading & please review!

_**Like a Bad Dream**_

_Setting: Number 12 Grimmauld Place, 1996_

Part 3:

"James told me Lucious Malfoy put a curse on me at the station, when I was Padfoot…he said he thought you could lift it," Sirius explained to Lupin, still a little ashamed to be looking him straight in the eye.

Harry just stared at him, drinking in the life in his face and the sound of his voice and the revelation that his dead parents spoke to Sirius in the afterlife. The look on Harry's face—the look on both of their faces, really—was painful for Sirius to take in for more than quick glances, so he looked back down quickly.

"That explains a lot," Lupin stated firmly, gently lifting Sirius's face with one finger under his chin until their eyes met again. "You haven't been yourself since then. I should have—" Lupin's voice broke, "should have known it was something to take seriously, should have done something."

Harry nodded, he felt that potently…how could they have let this happen? They were supposed to be the people who cared most about Sirius and they just let this go…_left him alone until he went and…and…_

"You can't honestly think this is your fault! This is my fault…I gave in to it," Sirius stated ashamedly, almost matter-of-factly, looking from Lupin to Harry and back again.

"Dammit Sirius!" Lupin began, pausing to control himself, pushing the desperate grief, the anger, that raw _fear_ down, back down…he could process it later, _once Sirius was safe, once they dealt with this dark curse, once he was himself again_. Sirius saw it on his face, put a hand to his shoulder as Lupin struggled with these feelings, shaking with their intensity.

"It's not." Lupin asserted. "It's not your—it doesn't have to be _anyone's_ fault, but I don't want to hold off trying to fix it one more minute." Lupin's voice was wavering all over the place. He grit his teeth and screwed his eyes shut tightly against the feelings of helplessness—the irrational thought that they could still be too late—still warring for control as he struggled to banish the memory of Sirius's tearstained, slack, empty face…_finding no pulse…working on his limp body unsuccessfully for what seemed an age…knowing it was too late, that he was gone, dead…_

Taking a deep, shaky breath and raising his eyes back to Sirius's, now softened with understanding and regret, Lupin raised his wand—which trembled only a little as he once again directed it at his best friend—Lupin began again.

"Let me try this: Finite Incantatem!" Lupin stated more firmly, pointing his wand at Sirius's head, since that seemed to be where the problem lay.

Sirius felt the effects almost immediately. _It was, God, it was like a heavy, clinging, dark fog lifted from him, from every aspect of him_. Every memory—especially the happy ones—became clearer and more colorful, like a light was thrown on them and the sound was switched back on.

The weight lifted from his shoulders, the feeling of having his own personal dementor hovering constantly over him disappeared as if Remus had cast a strong Patronus straight at it, flinging it from off of him and then chasing it away entirely. He felt like Remus had given him his life back, had saved his life.

_Well, he had, hadn't he?_

With surprising suddenness the humor he had been able to find in most things up until a few months ago bubbled back up and a strong bark of laughter burst from his control. He grinned at their faces which managed to be both tentatively hopeful and somewhat affronted at the same time, laughing again just because it felt so good.

He grabbed Lupin's shoulders, wanting to twirl Remus around as this feeling, this sense of literally having a new lease on life, washed over him, banishing the darkness.

"It worked?" Lupin asked, barely suppressing his own smile as he appraised Sirius's changed demeanor. "Is it safe for me to be mad at you now?" he added, drawing Sirius in a surprisingly firm hug, desperate to hold on to this, this feeling for Sirius and for himself.

This time Sirius really let loose with his laughter as he hugged Lupin back. Harry, despite being furious at his godfather and not having fully dispelled the awful heavy despair that grief had flooded him with, couldn't help but laugh too.

Sirius held out an arm and Harry leaped into the hug, the three of them holding back the darkness with the oldest and strongest magic known to wizardkind.

_Finite_

Thank you for reading my little ficlet! I haven't written fanfiction in years (literally, I think it's been over half a decade) and so I would so appreciate some reviews (as reviews are really really motivating)! Have a great day, and remember to hold your Remus Lupin's tight and get help if you need it!

Love


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